There was a familiar sensation, as if he was standing in a storm with forked lightning overhead. Not painful, just strange. He sniffed the air and smelt wet dog. It was him who stunk. Before him stood Khahaynd, only she looked exactly like the She-Elf, her features and outfit identical in every detail. The sorceress smiled seductively and batted her eyelashes.
‘You wont get him behaving like that,’ Zîr thought. “You may look like her, but nothing about your manner or actions says ‘Elf’, let alone that particular She-Elf.” His Mistress was making a grave mistake. If she tried to take him away from his red-haired love, the raven-haired Estarfin would slay her in rage when he realised her deception. If he could see that, why couldn’t his mistress? But then again, he was Cat. It was obvious.
“Be ready,” Khahaynd whispered to him, brushing her long red hair over her shoulder. “Give me warning if she moves.”
They waited, concealed among tall rushes, as minutes passed by. Slow it seemed. Then Khahaynd moved, low and careful, nearer the direction of the She-Elf. “Distract her,” she whispered.
Danel raised her head from her concentration. Parnard had been there, on the edge of her thoughts. Not exactly replying, but not shielding himself from her either. He was thinking of her, it helped. ‘Grassy fields, a stream, a marshland,’ she thought. He was not that far ahead, and travelling on foot. Then she heard sounds, a crushing of grass, a splashing of water. Distracted, she opened her eyes and looked about. She was just about to open her mouth to call to Estarfin when a large old shaggy dog bounced through the tall reeds and, tail wagging, came over to give her a friendly lick.
“No, no,” she said, giving him a pat despite herself. “I must concentrate. Be still and I shall reward you with something to eat after.”
Zîr liked the sound of that, but he needed to be careful. It was thought Elves saw through illusions better than Men. Something told him she could see him, the real him. Perhaps he was right? He needed to be careful. Khahaynd needed to be careful.
Khahaynd sashayed up from the lake side towards Estarfin. Her mind was set. ‘You would do anything to help her. You will do anything to help me, for I am now her.’
Culufinnel frowned when he saw her approaching. “That did not take very long,” he said in Sindarin, one of the languages she had studied. “Were your thoughts able to find him? Is Parnard in peril?”
She pouted a little, and wondered how long she should wait before asking Estarfin to get rid of this obnoxious interloper: a day or two perhaps? It would be an unlikely request from the She-Elf, so she would have to put up with the annoyance until she was sure the old Noldo could not refuse her request.
“I could sense him. We are on the wrong path. He heads north, to home.” She was uncertain who the tall golden-red haired elf was, and stood still for a moment to focus. He was the High Lord’s brother, she realized.
For the first time she caught Estarfin’s eye as he turned to look at her, and she was almost knocked off her feet at the intensity of his gaze. ‘Shield your thoughts,’ she rebuked herself for the near slip-up. ‘And keep a little distance.’
She headed for the dappled horse who tossed his head restlessly at her approach. “We should leave at once now, if we are to catch him up. We cannot loiter.”
Culufinnel called to his horse Cloud-Born, then asked her, “Is Parnard in danger? I mean, is he in immediate peril?”
“I doubt it,” the false Danel replied, still struggling against Iavas. The horse did not like her touch.
“You ‘doubt it’?” Culufinnel said, his eyes darkening. He suspected that she was holding something back that she did not wish for him to know. “He is either in peril, or he is not! Which is it?” he demanded.
The apparition drew an over-laboured breath. “Does it really matter? Come along, or remain here.”
He narrowed his eyes at her reply, but seeing that Estarfin was already mounted at her side and was looking behind them down the road towards Herne, he hesitated, and did not press her further. All was going well, she thought. “You should remain here,” she urged him, testing her luck, for she had grown reckless since her flight from the house at Herne. “It is for the best. Estarfin can escort me north.” If Khahaynd spoke too bluntly, it was because she was speaking her heart. The dark-haired Estarfin was a strong soldier, an ideal protector to use to her advantage. He might even prove to be a better companion than Zîr. “Let us be away,” she said to him. But now Estarfin was regarding her with a confused look.
Then the Captain of Celondim said, “It must have taxed your brain, this osanwë: of course I am going with you.”
She did not care in the slightest what he had to say about it. She was Danel now, and Estarfin would protect her. The only problem was the cursed drain on her strength to maintain the illusion. She smiled at the raven-haired Noldo in a winsome manner, something that the true Danel would never have done.
He blinked and continued to look confused.
She replied with a tired huff, “Come with us, if you must, but know you are not welcome.”
Culufinnel raised his eyebrows but said nothing, thinking that something was very wrong now. Without saying anything more, lest she reveal her true self, Khahaynd urged the unwilling Iavas towards Herne, with Estarfin following close beside her. She could feel the Captain’s dark green eyes boring into her back as they rode in silence. Curse the elves!
They rounded a bend in the road and saw four men walking along it, field workers, by the look of them. She kicked hard at Iavas’ flanks. “Run them down,” she commanded. What little she knew of Estarfin was that he had no tolerance for Men, and such an action should please him: it certainly would amuse her.
Unforeseen by her, the Captain swiftly rode ahead, calling out a warning to the Men to get off the road.
Too late, Iavas unwillingly clipped one, knocking him to the ground. The others scattered and ran off in different directions as fast as they could. The false Danel laughed and turned to look at Estarfin.
“Shall we give chase?” she said.
“They present no threat,” he answered. “We have Parnard to find.”
The disguised Khahaynd was disappointed that he showed no enthusiasm for the game. She could almost envisage them riding down enemies in Umbar. At least Estarfin did not look confused any more.
“How far north must we travel?” Culufinnel asked. She noted how he kept a respectful distance, and it pleased her.
“As far as I wish, Captain Thingy. Leave if you are bored.”
“‘Bored’ - ? ‘Captain Thingy’ - ?”
The false Danel noticed Estarfin had fallen back a little to ride beside the Captain. She snapped her fingers and looked ahead. “Estarfin, come,” she said, as if she were calling a hound.
“What is it?”
“I am having trouble with this horse. We will stop for a short time by the stream that lies just ahead.” When they reached it she dismounted, and pushed the horse’s muzzle down to the water. “This horse will not mind me! I shall get another as soon as possible.”
Estarfin looked unsure, but dismounted just the same, as did Culufinnel.
“Make a fire; it grows dark too early in this cold grey land.” This was the way she spoke to many others. It came naturally to her, skillful leadership (or so she thought), and Khahaynd believed that because Danel was of royal blood, being a cousin to the High Lord, she, too, would act in a similarly imperialistic manner, and no one would be the wiser.
Culufinnel ran his hands over Iavas’ sides and flanks, then checked the horse’s hooves for splits or stones.
“Stop fooling with that horse! I am getting cold sitting here as you bumble around,” she complained.
Culufinnel unclasped his cloak and swung it around her shoulders. “Here, wear my cloak, Lady. I cannot find anything amiss with your horse.”
“You are cold?” Estarfin asked, concern etched on his features.
As Culufinnel walked back to Cloud-Born, he whispered to Estarfin in passing, “Do you think she is unwell from her captivity among the Umbarrim? Is she having a relapse, of sorts? She does not seem to be quite like herself.”
“That much is obvious,” the Noldo whispered back, though still within the hearing range of most Elves.
Khahaynd-Danel did not hear them, but answered, “Of course I am cold,” like a spoiled child.
He watched as the She-Elf got to her feet. Darkness was falling, and another bitterly cold night was ahead; it would not be prudent to linger. As snowflakes whirled overhead, the first of the wolf howls broke the silence.
She looked up to the road. “Estarfin, I knew roughly where he is. Estarfin?”
There was no reply.
The old shaggy dog stood also. His mistress wanted him to distract the She-Elf while she stole away with her companions. But then she would have expected him to follow. She still wanted this She-Elf dead! It was not going to happen. He would not allow it. He shook off his illusion, and roared a challenge at the wolves.
“Well, well,” the Elf said. “You show your true self at last, and to my defence?”
Zîr tilted his face upward so that he could look into her eyes, laughing soundlessly. She had known? How long had she known?
Danel placed her hand on the hilt of the silver and gold sword, and drew it from its scabbard lying next to where she stood. “Nay, brave one, This is to ‘speak’ to them, not you,” she said, and nodded in the direction of the three wolves. Then she stepped forward, swinging the bright blade, sending blood and fur flying through the air. A second wolf fell, dead before its body hit the ground, its throat ripped out by a swipe of Zir’s giant paw. The third turned, tail-tucked between its legs, and ran off yelping.
“Nicely done, Great Cat. You have my thanks.”
If he could have spoken, he would have. Instead he licked her hand with his raspy pink tongue and rubbed his head against her.
“They have gone? Was it your Mistress, or did they catch sight of Parnard?”
His glowing golden-hued eyes stared into hers. She saw an image of Khahaynd riding off with Estarfin and Culufinnel in pursuit. He was not overly good at that skill, but he could manage, he was Cat!
She drew her cloak around her, tightened her sword belt, and walked back up to the road, Zîr following. “We wait here, my friend,” she told the panther. “Estarfin will see through Khahaynd’s deception, and when he and Culufinnel return, we will make for the marshes nigh Tharbad. There, Parnard is safe enough, but he grows weary.”
